Message of Abbot Paul - Wednesday 8th March 2023
Abbot Paul • March 8, 2023


You might remember that in September I visited our monastery in Peru for the Canonical Visitation. It was my first visit since February 2020. Six months after a visitation, it’s customary to revisit a monastery to see whether advice given has been acted on and things are improving. Yesterday I held the first of a few days interviewing the monks from the superior down to the last postulant. Even a good, well-run monastery can make improvements to strengthen its monastic observance and bonds of charity among the brethren. We’re in late Summer now and it was a particularly hot day, not to sort of day you want to be cooped up inside carrying out interviews. A visit to a nearby beach would have been a more pleasant option! On the other hand, in the north, where we first lived, they had torrential rains caused by the Niño.
Our Gospel passage today comes from Matthew, (Mt 20: 17-28), in which we find Jesus and his disciples making their way to Jerusalem for what would be their last visit. He tells them of his forthcoming arrest, condemnation, crucifixion and brutal death and how on the third day he will rise again. You would think that this alone would give them enough to think about, but no, two of them had other things on their minds. It’s the mother of Zebedee’s sons who comes forward with a request. “Promise that these two sons of mine may sit one at your right hand and the other at your left in the kingdom of heaven.” Jesus’ reply is direct and to the point. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.” He addresses the brothers. “Can you drink the cup that I am going to drink?” When they answer, “We can,” he replies, “Drink it you will, but a place at my right hand and at my left is only my Father’s to give. The others are indignant, but Jesus insists that theirs is a vocation to service carried out with humility and that the first among them must be as a salve or a servant. He reminds them that, “the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.” Their own vocation can be no different and that goes for all his disciples, including you and me.

Bishop Mark Jabalé OSB RIP Given at his funeral by Dom Alexander Kenyon Baby Jean Pierre (Mark) Jabale was born on October 16th, 1933, in Alexandria, Egypt. As he said, himself, his background could be considered “cosmopolitan”: his father was Lebanese / French and his Mother, British / Greek / French. He also reminded people that he wasn’t Egyptian. Through his mother, Arlette, he was related to St. Jean Vianney, so it was, perhaps, no surprise that he followed in his priestly footsteps. His father, Jean, was MD of Fiat and Simca cars Europe and, maybe surprisingly or not, he did love a car – not, however, Italian cars, but German; he loved his Audis. Perhaps we should begin today by remembering his mother and father, his brothers Christian and Paul and his nieces, here today, Aline and Nathalie and Isabelle and their families – they were so dear to him and he to them and I know they miss him enormously. Young Jean wanted to join the Navy and came to England, to Belmont Abbey school but the Lord had other ideas – he ended up joining the rather land locked monastery, our dear, late Fr. Raymund opining that he wouldn’t last a month. After a rather uninspiring course of priestly studies (his words, not mine) he studied for a Licentiate in French literature in Fribourg, then a Dip Ed at Strawberry Hill and played Rugby there – the Papist Witch Doctor as he was affectionately known. Teaching followed, at Belmont, Housemaster, acting Headmaster, then to Alderwasley, our prep school in Derbyshire as Headmaster, and then back to Belmont soon after as Headmaster. In 1983 he went to Peru to build our first monastery there only to realise there was little money. So, he returned to the UK to put in a stint of fundraising with his usual zeal and determination. With his mission accomplished he was asked by Abbot Alan to return to Belmont as his prior in 1986 – Peru remained close to his heart. In 1993 he was elected Abbot. In his time as Abbot, he had to preside over the closure of the school, necessary but no less painful for him. In 2000 he was appointed coadjutor Bishop of Menevia and succeeded Bishop Mullins in 2001. He retired as Ordinary in 2008 and “retired” to Chipping Norton as parish priest, then Hendon, saying Mass for the nuns and helping with confirmations. After a spell at Archbishop’s House, Westminster, living with his great friend Cardinal Nichols, he came home to Belmont – it was as though he had never been away and he loved being back in the monastery, particularly praying the Office with the community. That’s the list, of sorts, but it doesn’t really say “who” he was. I haven’t mentioned his outstanding contribution to rowing – the 1979 coxless, lightweight four gold medal at the world championships in Bled, which almost didn’t happen as, at the last minute, he was told there was no money to send the crew. He begged, cajoled and got them there – the video footage of the final is compelling. He transformed Henley Royal Regatta, writing a computer programme for the race results – he was well ahead of his time. He coached the Oxford Boat, ran the Heads of the River Schools Regatta, and more. What an achievement from someone who had never sat in a boat but learned on the job, as he said, “from books, mainly”. It was his determination, his commitment, his love of people and his drive to share what he had that is, perhaps, one of the key things to celebrate about him. And it was underpinned by his rock-solid faith – nothing overly pious, nothing showy, but a faith and a love of the Lord built on granite. Even his occasional lack of patience (sorry Mark) extended to that faith; ‘why won’t God call me?”. At the risk of being irreverent my response was always “would you want you?”. But God did want him, and he knew it. God had a purpose for his Apostle during his life and he now rests with Him in eternity. His purpose was, simply, to bring the joy of the Lord into the lives of others, in many and varied ways. A few weeks before Mark died, Pope Francis died. When the late Pope was seriously ill the son of friends of mine who entertained Mark and I to lunch regularly, was distraught at overhearing mum and dad say the Pope may die. He couldn’t stop crying. “But darling”, they said, “you don’t know the Pope, why so very sad?”. “We do know him” came the reply, “it’s Mark”. “No, Mark isn’t the Pope”. “Oh, so when the Pope does die will Mark be Pope then?”. Mark loved that one. When Mark himself did die said son would only be pacified by picking flowers from the garden and bringing them to church for him. He wanted to show how much Mark meant to him and wanted to give a little something back. That is the real biography – a man loved, respected, a man who shared what he had, above all his faith, a man who touched so many lives and made them better.  Rest in peace our dear friend.